


Technical Difficulties

by CloudyEquilibrium (Background_Character)



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Attempt at Humor, Crack, Dysfunctional Relationships, Gen, Mentions of Dubious Science, Teenage Drama Is Underrated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-04-28 03:05:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14440098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Background_Character/pseuds/CloudyEquilibrium
Summary: He was too friendly in your books, and to him you might as well be his untimely end.





	Technical Difficulties

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, fair warning here: nothing in this fic is cohesive.
> 
> Enjoy.

You want to hate him, you really, really want to. If it weren't for his name inked on your wrist, you're sure none of this would have happened, with this being the situation you've been dragged into. You hate it—the way your ears manage to pick up every little whisper from the people you pass. People who you once considered trustworthy enough to respectfully stay a distance away from. They don't understand, they never do and they most likely never will.

On average, most people find their soulmates after they're twenty-one. But you're seventeen and right now you don't want the pressure of an eternal relationship to ruin your plans for the future. It put you in a strange position, with you being a senior and him a sophomore. You wished you met him later in life, not during a time where you're still trying to understand yourself and stand on your own two feet.

_Whisper this, whisper that._

It's beginning to grate on your nerves, so you open your locker with a deafening slam, silencing the entire population of the corridor. You glare at your neighbour, effectively scaring them away from your personal space, and begin to rummage through your belongings for the stuff you'll in the coming hours.

Unfortunately for you, only one person didn't get the intimidating memo you just made.

"Hey, [Name]!" he calls out, sweeping past the crowds who have half a good mind to remain quiet while things unfold. The school news plays overhead like white noise.

"Parker, a surprise." His expression falls at the way you address him so stiffly.

"Aw, man, would it kill you to even just... You know what? Never mind."

"Smart choice," you say in agreement with his statement. It would be best for him not to question why you seem to give him the cold shoulder twenty-four seven. "Where's your friends?"

"Oh, um, them? I told them that I'd be hanging out with you today."

 _Without my permission?_ —you want to screech in his face but manage to hold your awakened rage in. It's hard enough to act like nothing fazes you, so suddenly snapping wouldn't help you in any way possible. It wouldn't do good for whatever ludicrous image he has of you in his head. Probably some sort of movie deity. Yeah. That's plausible when it comes to trying to predict Peter Parker. Totally, one of the cool kids in your year would say if their heard your internal monologue.

"Then, I'll see you at lunchtime?"

"Huh?" He snaps out a quick haze he slipped into during your period of silence. "Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah... I'll see you then."

You considered it a small blessing that you were older than him.

 

•

 

**12:40**

You glared at the clock.

You checked your watch for the fifth time.

You swore under your breath.

"Of fucking course Parker would be late," you hissed and sculled down the rest of your milk. The strangers nearby, who had the balls to sit close enough, but not so close that they wouldn't incur your wrath, jolted when you slammed the cardboard box down against your tray. Why were you even waiting for him? Most days, he arrived later than what he said and more often than not, you counted on your fingers the amount of times he never showed up at all. 

**12:42**

You were sorely tempted to throw your cutlery at the clock for its oblivious mockery of the situation at hand And maybe because one of your peers noticed the way you were gripping on to your fork like a lifeline that you heard someone whisper to their pals, "Parker's dead meat if he doesn't show up soon."

You settled for hurling the whole table at whomever made that comment.

**12:50**

If Principal Morita only had a stick up his ass on a good day, than today definitely wasn't one. The expression on his face was stormy, almost as if somebody had dared to desecrate his grandfather's portrait again, an incident that happened twice back when you were a freshman before he brought an iron fist down and threatened to have the culprit (when he found them) serve a semester-long detention. But needless to say, this wasn't your first year in Midtown where everything's fun and games, it's your last.

"[Surname], I know you're a nice kid and all, but you're a senior now and if you don't get your head straight soon... Well, you're old enough to know how society functions nowadays."

"I understand."

"Good, now get outta here." He made a shooing motion at the door and you wrinkled your nose at how easily he could shift personalities.

If you could master that, you supposed life would be better.

 

•

 

It was almost midnight when you got a call from the contact you had labelled as 'P-Squared'.

You groaned, begrudgingly setting down the conical flask in one hand and stopping the flow of liquid from the burette positioned above it before you accepted the call and put it on speaker, quickly returning to your work. 

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't hang up right now, Parker."

"I'm sorry?"

"Strike one."

"Something suddenly came up and I had to deal with it?"

"Strike two."

"I went flying." You laughed.

"What? Did Tony Stark finally go crazy and built a plane with you as his unwilling passenger or something?"

"... Yeah, something like that."

"I'm too invested in this fantastical tale and my chemistry homework to say strike three, Parker, humour me for the next hour."

"I have to go to sleep."

"God fucking dammit!" you shouted, dismayed at how you just managed to miss the amount of solution needed for a reaction and the time it took to change colours before everything in the conical flask turned clear. "Oh, sorry, Parker. That wasn't directed at you. Goodnight!" you added on for good measure.

Clearly shaken by your response, he too said goodnight in a small voice and ended the call from his end.

 

* * *

 

If he was being perfectly honest, talking with you was more terrifying than having Mr Toomes point a gun at him.

Peter almost died when he realised that the name on his wrist belonged to one person in Midtown who wouldn't hesitate to blow up the school, laws and morality be damned. He'd seen you around sometimes, before the two of you were formally introduced to each other, arguing with the teachers about one thing or another and how it wasn't wrong for you to take a few pieces of equipment home to perform your own experiments. Actually, no. He takes that back. You'd be holding a chair high above your head as you proceeded to win shouting match after shouting match behind closed doors.

Things escalated once you realised he was your soulmate. 

Metaphorically, the simmering pot had its lid blown off.

You neither openly accepted your relation to him nor did you seem to care as it became obvious that you didn't care that he was your soulmate.

May told him it would take a while for somebody like you to warm up to the idea but he had his doubts.

"Parker."

"Peter."

"Parker."

"Peter."

"Parker."

"Peter."

"Parker."

 

(One day, he had managed to make it to lunch on time and sat by your side with Ned and MJ on the opposite side of the table. What was supposed to be a lighthearted meeting soon escalated into a match of deadpan exchanges with his first and last name between the two of you. His friends just watched in amusement—never once making an indication they would intervene, seeing as he managed to calm you to the point of not crushing your milk box with your hand.)

(He also made the relisation that if Mr Stark ever had the pleasure of meeting you, comparisons to the Hulk would be made and everything would end badly.)

(He could imagine you blowing up the Tower just to spite Mr Stark, even if there was currently no one occupying the building.)

 

"Peter."

"Parker."

"Peter."

"Parker."

"Peter."

"... Parker." He threw his arms in the air in defeat.

"You're really not gonna call me by my first name, are you?" You merely blinked at his dramatic response. 

"Never."

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something funny.
> 
> I ended up with something weird instead.


End file.
